Dread Elves

Legions of Fear

On every coast, in every port, the sighting of black sails is met with instant horror. Theirs is a name well earned from centuries of reaving and slaving, sparing none who fall beneath their whips. Feel the chains of fear upon your heart, with the approach of the Dread Elves.

The Republic of Dathen in Silexia represents the largest dominion of Dread Elves, a hotbed of politics and intrigue centred upon the Obsidian Thrones within the Tower of Gar Daecos. Religion too shapes this society, and the most powerful cults dominate both civilian and military life. Perhaps the greatest weapon of fear in the arsenal of the Dread Elves is the Menagerie: a collection of monstrous creatures which the Daeb bend to their will.

T9A world map name Dread Elves map
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Daeb raiding ships are known to attack shores around the world in swift and terrifying raids.

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The nation of the Dread Elves is the Republic of Dathen, settled in ancient times by pioneers and refugees.


The Dread Elves often use a mixed arms approach. That means a mixture of short and long range shooting with different combat elements and magic support. They can also focus on a main infantry unit, supporting it with several smaller units to make sure it gets the combat it wants. A completely different approach is to play a mixture of minimum sized units of elite infantry, or monsters, or hard hitting cavalry and chariots. A lot of mobile shooting can also be used to "dance" around the Opponent while Shooting their units.

Lore of Dread Elves

The Battle of Avran’s Bay

We had been grinding the elven rear guard since dawn. It was clear it was only a matter of time before they broke and we could hack apart the ships on the beaches below. It was the sixth hour past noon when the line began to buckle under the keen edges of our axes. Suddenly, the elves parted like wet soil struck by a shovel and I ordered the throng to plant their feet in anticipation of some foul play from the oathbreakers.

Through the divide I saw a warrior in an elaborate panoply of black, red and gold nonchalantly dismount his chariot. The surreal calm this individual exuded was underscored by the loving care with which he unharnessed the chariot’s two snapping beasts. For three centuries now I have served the Hold and faced all manner of monsters and madmen in its service, but I had never seen such a sight. Curse be upon all elfkind and their enchanting ways!

A spray of arterial blood brought me back to my senses as the warrior hit our line, passing through our ranks like a shadow made of serrated steel. There was nothing but red ruin in his wake. Of the fourteen greybeards of clan Kengaz who accompanied me, only corpses remained moments later. A gaping hole that could fit a royal warthrone appeared in our formation. At its centre, the elf stood with his twin blades resting at his side and a smirk of utmost contempt which awakened the ire of every true dwarf who saw it. I would have rushed at the pompous butcher had my runes not started to glow.

Glancing towards the line of elven spears, I locked eyes with their witch. Her gaze burned with malice and disgust. Every ounce of my craft was put to the test as I attempted to defend our victory against this magic and trickery. The rune of revocation I struck once, twice, thrice, four times! Yet the sorceress continued chanting and weaving her slender limbs as if handling some invisible clay, furrow on her brow growing ever deeper. For a moment of hubris, I believed I had her beaten. But she released an undulating scream towards the high havens and a chill went down my spine.

I sensed something moved beyond the Veil, something ancient and terrible with a will bent on our doom. With an iridescent flash my runes exploded, overwhelmed by arcane power. The shadow of a titanic bird could be seen above the witch for a terrible moment. Where once her words and gestures were those of a simple spellcaster, now they spread death as if trying to match the savagery of the crimson whirlwind amidst our ranks. Tendrils of purple smoke lanced towards the mouths and nostrils of my comrades, rotting their bodies from within. Strange carvings appeared on their flesh, wracking them with maddening pain, and invisible hands deflected blows that should have smote the warrior determined to send us all to our ancestors. Seeing the pandemonium unfold, the elves let out a loud cheer and charged. Then the bloodshed began in earnest.

Report by venerable runic smith Gavan on the disastrous loss of life at the final battle of Avran’s Bay

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You will find here the lore that has currently been released. More lore will be released in the future, and will subsequently be added to this section.